The Touch of Galadriel (LotR)

Synopsis: A Lord of the Rings erotica. Galadriel fulfills a young pirate's desires for one night.

Author's Note: A story I wrote for a reader. I welcome any feedback you may have. Enjoy!

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THE TOUCH OF GALADRIEL

Section I.

In the Beginnings of the Third Age, when the Dark Lord Sauron in his prime was at last defeated by the Last Alliance of Elves and Men, and Middle-earth began to see the beginnings of a true peace--however ephemeral such a peace might be--there sparked a brief war spanning all but three years, fought between the Elven armadas of the Gray Havens and the Pirate Corsairs of Umbar. Seeking to procure enchanted weaponry and ships to fuel their war with Gondor, the Corsairs routinely raided Elven vessels traveling to and from the Grey Havens. Thereafter, this war became known as the Corsair's War.

But few knew that the Lady of Lothlórien, Galadriel herself, was a visitor to the Grey Havens during this period. Fewer still knew of the events that transpired there, leading some to speculate that the famed Galadriel might have had a secret, second husband.

One of the race of Men--a pirate.

A small, oakwood boat--a trimaran of all things--slowly drifted into the misty harbor. Amongst the Elven ships moored there, encrusted with their gems and embroidered with gold, the small vessel stuck out like a sore thumb. Its yellowed sails appeared to have been ripped to shreds by hurricanes, and its hull was peppered with so many arrows that it resembled a cactus. So worn was the vessel that it prompted Elven passersby to congregate and whisper among themselves, pointing at it.

"What is that?"

"Is that a pirate in the harbor?"

"Alert the Guard Captain!"

The young man at the bow of the boat ignored them and continued to row it forward. He was not a particularly large man, but he appeared athletic and muscular under his unbuttoned short and weather breeches. Years of sailing on the seas had bronzed his leathery skin. His blue-black hair was shorn at his shoulders and tied in a modest ponytail. Dangling from his neck was a necklace of exotic, multi-colored seashells. And though pirate he may have been, his bright, blue eyes lent him an honorable appearance.

At last, his ship pulled into dock. With a grunt, he tossed a rope around a pillar before stepping barefoot onto the wharf. There he addressed the elves, his swarthy voice rife with exhaustion.

"I am Ashenar of Merbrook," he proclaimed. "I beg for asylum for I have come far and risked much to reach this place. I have with me two high-born Elves whom I rescued from the bondage of the pirate captain Dolgadir. They have endured great suffering and I beg that you help them."

At this, the group of elves on the pier mumbled and muttered among themselves, so much so that Ashenar wondered if coming all this way was a mistake.

"He speaks the truth," bellowed another voice from the boat.

An Elven woman who had heretofore been crouched out of sight rose to her full height. She was dressed in blue robes that were unmistakably Elvish, but they too had been ripped to shreds, as though myriad orcs had reached out and torn off pieces of it. And perhaps that was so--the woman's face was splashed with dried blood, and her blue eyes--as beautiful as they were--could not hide the horrors of her recent captivity. Despite that, her recognizable golden hair somehow still shone like woven gossamer.

"It is I, Celebrian, Lady of Rivendell, Daughter of Galadriel. I beg you treat this man well. He rescued me and my father from pirates. Were it not for him, we would surely be dead."

She glanced behind her; There was her father, Lord Celeborn himself, crouched on the floor and covered in blood. Even his curtain of silver hair could not hide his sallowed face.

"Lord Celeborn?!" The citizens cried out. "The Lord of Lothlórien has returned at last!"

"Call for healers!"

"The Guard Captain is coming!"

At this, the small crowd moved to action as more elves approached with water and clothing. Not a minute later, Celebrian and Celeborn both were escorted into the city proper. And Ashenar was left alone on the wharf, himself parched and exhausted from his long voyage.

He stepped barefoot onto the white stone before he saw metal flash before his eyes.

"Halt! Walk no further!"

Ashenar stumbled backward as an Elven woman dressed in a helmet and full armor stood before him, spear in hand. Her flowing hair was a fiery red, and dark freckles dotted her nose. Yet her jade-green eyes blazed with contempt.

"I am the Guard Captain Urthiel! I will have your name!"

He felt the point of her spear on his neck.

"A-as I said," he stammered. "I am Ashenar of Merbrook. I rescued--"

"Where is that? I know no such place."

"It is far across the sea."

"Are you a pirate?!"

"I am... a sailor." He gulped.

"Are you now?" she said, her eyes narrowing. "I'm sure you're much more than that. I should tell you that I have fought and killed pirates bigger than you. Lady Celebrian says you rescued her, and she says she trusts you. But I. Do. Not! Should I find that you are a pirate, I will shove this spear into your throat!"

The dagger sheathed at Ashenar's belt was only a movement away. If he could reach quickly enough--

"Alas--" The woman named Urthiel sighed and lowered her spear. "You will live for a while longer. The Lady of the Galadhrim will be your judge."

She withdrew her spear and turned her back on him. Ashenar breathed a sigh of relief.

"You will follow me," she said tersely. "Now."

"Where?"

"You will be nourished. And clothed. Afterward... I will take you to her."

"Take me to who?"

"Who else? The Lady of Lothlórien, Galadriel herself."

Section II.

Mortal men rarely visited the Throne Room of the Grey Havens. Painted upon its cavernous ceiling was a mural depicting events of the distant past, ranging from the coronation of the Elves' first King and Queen, to the giving of the Three Rings to their Elvish masters. And as Ashenar peered up at it, an ocean breeze blew in from over the sunlit balustrades and tousled his hair. He felt a genuine peace even as Urthiel nudged him forward.

Galadriel. The Lady of the Galadhrim. The Lady of Light. She was known by many names, but Ashenar knew little about her save for what he had been told in his youth. The stories of her clairvoyance--the magic of foresight--had reached even his island village beyond the seas of Umbar. He could not be certain of what was and wasn't true, but he hoped Galadriel would show him mercy lest Urthiel keep her promise.

Before Ashenar were the seats of the throne itself, covered in jewels and sat upon with red, silken cushions. Two there were with the King's on the left and the Queen's on the right, but neither was currently occupied.

The only other person in the chamber was a woman in white who Ashenar could only assume was a lady-in-waiting. Her long hair was jet-black, ever so dark as the blackest lake. She stood against the wall as silent as a statue, her eyes downcast.

"The Lord and Lady of the Grey Havens are currently away," bellowed Urthiel. "However, Lady Galadriel of Lothlórien is currently present. She will see you shortly."

The Guard Captain subsequently turned and left the young mariner alone.

He sighed. "What a week..."

He had been dressed in Elvish clothing, and though comfortable, such white robes did not suit his lifestyle. His was a life of salt, sand, and sun. The sandals given to him were unnecessary as years of serving as a deck scrubber had made calluses from the soles of his feet.

The horizon turned purple as the sun began to set. Then a huge shadow was cast upon the floor, and Ashenar suddenly realized he was not alone anymore. He glanced to his left and to his right, listening for a footstep or a shuffling of fabrics, but he heard nothing.

That is until a great, melodic voice resounded in the chamber with a warmth that threatened to sooth Ashenar to his bones.

"Welcome to the Grey Havens, Ashenar. I am Galadriel, the Lady of Lothlórien."

Her steps were as silent as the moon.

The first thing Ashenar noticed was that she towered over him by at least four inches. Her shining, golden hair appeared as curtains around her piercing, blue eyes. Her complexion was white as pearl, yet not so much as to be pallid in color. Her nose was comely and her pursed lips unwavering. The sleeves of her white gown were so long that they spilled from her wrists unto the floor like waterfalls. And her décolletage was cut low yet modest, betraying only the slightest modicum of her pale cleavage through the sheer cloth. And finally, seated upon her long, elven ears was her silver crown, bereft of gems, but nonetheless incomparable in craftsmanship to anything Ashenar had ever seen. But above all else, so beautiful a woman was she that Ashenar found himself instinctively looking away, as though the sun itself had descended from its throne in the stars and stood before him.

This Elf was Galadriel, the most powerful reigning Queen in all Middle-earth.

Ashenar had found Celebrian beautiful as well. So much so that it had pushed him to rescue her as he did. But she was no Galadriel.

He knelt before her, legs quivering as he drunk in her presence, breath by breath.

"Young Ashenar, Child of Men," Galadriel spoke. "Speak freely. There is no need to be afraid."

Her smile melted his heart. The stories did not do her justice.

"L-Lady Galadriel," he stammered. "I am humbled by your presence.

"No." She shook her head. "I am humbled by yours. It is not often that I meet with a Child of Men, much less a pirate of the Corsairs of Umbar--"

Ashenar's blood froze. She was reading him like a book.

"--but one who is kind to my family is, and always shall be, welcome to my realm with open arms."

"I-I've heard that you are to see--that you are able to see into minds," he stuttered. "Do you... read my own?"

"I often do, but not this time. The brand on your leg speaks for you."

She motioned towards Ashenar's ankle. There, emblazoned on his dark skin, was a black serpent. Despite being hidden under the weft of his trousers, the woman still somehow saw it.

"I see," Ashenar visibly gulped. "Then, Lady Galadriel, it is to my shame that I am not worthy of your kindness."

"Oh? How so?".

Ashenar took a deep breath. He would tell his story.

"I have heard that you see much and know much. If you already know that I am in fact a pirate," he paused. "Then you already know I am among your enemy's number. I served under the Corsair Captain Dolgadir, who has--I am ashamed to say--murdered many of your number in cold blood. When he captured your husband's ship, his crew killed many and took your husband and daughter prisoner. I did not--could not--save them in their torment. And the only reason I rescued your daughter and your husband from their prison is because... because of your daughter's beauty. I saw her blood, her clothes torn. I yet feel pity and remorse that I was a part of the crew that did it."

He cried out. "I beg for your forgiveness, Lady Galadriel!"

She narrowed her eyes, her gaze sharp with purpose. Ashenar suddenly felt a tightness in his chest, and when he glanced up at her he realized she was peering into his past. It was then Ashenar knew the stories of Galadriel's powers of clairvoyance were no myth at all.

But despite this, she still bore a comforting smile.

"You do yourself an injustice," she said. "I see through you. To save my husband and daughter you executed a great escape. You betrayed your Captain and even murdered one of your kin. And as a result of your actions, you will never be able to return home. A great pity, and one that I understand all too well. But having displayed such courage to save those I love, it matters not to me from whence you hail. I sense light within you, mellon."

Galadriel motioned to the black-haired maidservant by the wall.

"Olviel, tul hon nen," she commanded in Elvish.

The maidservant briefly bowed at her knee, scurried to a nearby fountain, then dipped in it a wide goblet, filling it with clear water. With a blush, she quietly passed it to Ashenar.

"Pardon her behavior," said Galadriel. "Many girls of the Havens have never laid eyes upon a Child of Men.

"So it seems." He nodded to the young woman in thanks.

"Drink, friend!"

Ashenar lifted the cup to his lips and drank, and drank, and drank some more. The Elven waters parched his thirst as no rum or whisky or milk had ever done before, and all the aches and pains of his occupation melted away such that he'd forgotten they were ever there.

"I... I thank you for your forgiveness, Lady Galadriel," Ashenar replied.

"Are you feeling better?" She asked with a smile.

"Yes, much. Although, I wager you already know that?"

She laughed. "I do! But tis impolite not to ask."

Ashenar realized he was smiling then. When before Galadriel frightened him with her overwhelming presence, now he nursed the same fluttering feeling he felt upon meeting Celebrian for the first time. A hot blush roared up his neck and into his cheeks. And feeling that Galadriel was probably aware of it, he turned away in embarrassment.

"I do hope that my Guard Captain Urthiel did not frighten you," Galadriel continued.

"I, well, she--"

"Please forgive her. Her brother was slain by pirates."

"I see..."

He cast his gaze downward as he recalled a certain day. The pirate ship on which he served had plowed into an Elven vessel from the Grey Havens. Many Elves were killed. And he was tasked with mopping their blood off the decks. Was Urthiel's brother one of their number, he wondered?

"You shall rest in the West Tower until you are recovered Galadriel continued. "But in the meantime, I owe you a great debt for what you have done for me. And let it never be said that the Lady of Lórien does not pay her debts."

"My Lady, I thank you. But asylum is enough. I don't deserve any more than that."

"Is that so?"

Upon hearing these words, Galadriel turned to the sunset. The orange horizon glittered in her blue eyes, and Ashenar could see in them a hint of melancholy.

"Child of Men," she said. "Do you know what I am afraid of?"

Ashenar shook his head. The woes of immortals were as unknown to him as their magic.

She answered.

"The peoples of this land whisper that I am among the most powerful beings in all Middle-earth. This I cannot deny. But so powerful am I that I might even raise the dead? No, even I, who bathed in the light of the Two Trees, is incapable of that. And so, I ask you what might someone like me be afraid of?"

She turned.

"Death! The death of my family. In a world of mortals, immortality is coveted as the greatest of gifts. But for me, to suffer the deaths of my closest family and live forever with those memories is a curse greater than any other. And you, Ashenar, have spared me that cruel fate. For this, I am forever grateful. And you are owed a debt equal to that gratitude. Would you not agree, Ashenar?

"I--"

"I insist." She approached him. "It shall be anything you wish. You may tell me."

"I--I cannot speak it."

Her brow furrowed.

"Why?" She demanded.

Ashenar felt the words stuck in his throat. But he could not--would not--speak them, for his true feelings shamed him.

Galadriel stepped even closer then, closing the gap with silent footsteps, until so close she was that Ashenar could see the bands in her irises. Her eyes narrowed again, and suddenly he felt her true gaze penetrate his soul as she spoke directly to his mind.

"You can say it. What is it you seek, Ashenar? Are you as any other man who covets gold and jewels, like the dwarves of the mountain? Or, like the Men of Gondor, do you desire power above all else?" Her eyes flitted back and forth as she probed the furthest reachest of his mind for the answer.

"No... your treasure is simpler. Is it life? Immortality? Are you driven by fear of your death, like mortals? The death of your loved ones, like myself? We Elves do have ways of prolonging mortal life. And yet... I suspect I have not yet hit the mark..."

Sweat dripped from Ashenar's palms. Galadriel stood so close that her nose nearly touched his own, yet he could not move a muscle.

"Is, perhaps, your desire one of evil?"

"No..." he murmured.

"If not, why hide it?"

He shut his eyes tight, his thoughts racing in terror that she might see all his fears, faults, sins, and lusts.

Finally, Galadriel gasped. Ashenar felt her telepathy instantly break, and once more his mind was his own. The woman suddenly spun away, her cheeks burning so red that they might as well have been glanced by a physical blow.

"Oh. Oh, I-I see. It is even more simple than that," she muttered. "My goodness..."

"My Lady," Ashenar stuttered. "L-Lady Galadriel... I beg your forgiveness. I am yet just a man. I-I do desire your daughter, Celebrian."

"Yes... I know it." Galadriel turned, and to Ashenar's surprise she bore a smile of understanding. "Young Ashenar, to love and to desire, is no evil. Unless forced upon, there is no shame in it."

She reached up and embraced his cheek in her hand.

"Alas, I am sorry. Lady Celebrian is betrothed to Lord Elrond and cannot be yours."

She paused, as if to briefly think on it.

"And yet--" Galadriel started. "Might I offer a compromise?"

Ashenar dared not imagine her next words.

"Myself? For one night," she said. "Instead of my daughter, I will offer myself to you. My body. My soul. And my love as well, for I have love for all beings of Middle-earth, and especially for one whom I owe much."

Ashenar cried out.

"Lady Galadriel--I couldn't--"

"Why not?"

"Y-you are... I mean... you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes upon, but..."

"But what?"

"I-Is your heart not sworn to your husband, Celeborn? What would he--"

"My husband and I are of one mind," she interjected. "You saved his life and the life of our progeny. He too is indebted to you and will take no issue with our union. That is my word."

"Still... it's still not that simple!"

"How so?"

"Y-you are Lady Galadriel! I am not worthy to look upon you, much less...much less lie with you!"

"I am no less a woman than Celebrian. In fact, I do admit that a part of me rejoices. It has been some time since I've been regarded as no more than a woman. It is... quite refreshing."

"Lady Galadriel... I..."

"You protest, but you have not yet said 'No'."

Her long ears perked as she beamed from ear to ear. And at the sight of such a smile, Ashenar's resistance completely melted away.

"You will lie with me tonight. That is my promise, Child of Men."

With that, she kissed him on his forehead. Ashenar was stupefied, even as he felt butterflies in his stomach.

"Now, I must make preparations," Galadriel said. "In the meantime, rest. You will need your energy.

Ashenar left the throne room. A strange mix of feelings--excitement, anxiety, shame, and lust--frothed and foamed in his heart. Whereas before he desired Celebrian, now only Galadriel occupied his thoughts. He could not be certain of what would happen next.

Section III.

The port city of the Grey Havens was famed for its silver towers, winding bridges, and misty sunsets. But save for the Elven inhabitants themselves, few knew of the many waterways and chambers hidden in the watery underbelly of the city. Many such places were not for mortals to see. But Ashenar would be one of the few.

Although he was yet to be twenty-six, Ashenar's heart beat with a child-like excitement. He was to bed Galadriel, the Lady of Lothlórien herself!

A stone archway passed over his head as he followed Galadriel downward. They descended down a narrow passage lit only by the luminescence of flowers growing from between the bricks. The ceiling was low and the walls were damp with dew. A gentle stream of water passed under his bare feet, flowing down the steps into the inky darkness